Mr and Mrs Hodge
by Iresol
Summary: A Guardian oneshot, Hodge and his wife share a moment together whilst in the middle of a storm.


_Author's Note: Ok! I LOVE "The Guardian" movie and was utterly blown away by the Coast Guard's actions during Hurricane Katrina and all their rescues, so I have decided to do a one shot on Hodge, since he was such a little cutie in that movie. And he had great potential for growth. Anyway, there was no hurricane in the Keys, so don't freak. I own only the hurricane and original character. Enjoy and review please!_

**Key Largo...**

Rescue Swimmer Billy Hodge walked through the make-shift rest area for the Coast Guard that the Key Largo Mayor had given up, a gym in the middle school, even though most the school was under at least five inches of water. Key Largo was under more.

Rubbing his tired and bruised hand through his spiky blonde hair that stood up in every last direction, his eyes looked around the cots that held sleeping Coasties. He was looking for one. He did spot the exhausted body of Jake Fischer sleeping like the dead.

A few inches of water splashed as he walked.

He didn't care.

Billy was spent. He'd been out longer then he should have been pulling people from their homes. They were supposed to work sixteen hours and get about ten off to sleep, before heading out into the flood. Hodge's had been out almost twenty two hours and he was beyond tired, beyond wired. He wasn't sure how he was able to stand but he was standing.

As he rubbed the golden band around his ring finger he continued his quest.

Ignoring the smell of hot food. Ignoring the calls for hot drinks and dry clothes. He'd taken off everything but his swimming trunks which were damp.

He could have been hungry.

First he needed to find Mrs. Hodge and make sure she was safe. Make sure all was well and then he could put his head down for a while.

"Hodge!"

Numbly he paused, turned, and rolled his neck which made it pop loudly. He'd need to hit the gym when he got home. He'd been going more after he had met the Mrs's and married her within a matter of weeks, It'd been the most impulsive thing he'd ever done, but she did that to him. She reached parts of him he'd never known existed before. He wanted to be utterly perfect and everything a husband should be for her and more.

One of the Coasties from the front, from his base in Washington had spotted him, clipboard in hand, "This say's you were out twenty-three hours and forty nine minutes, I know that can't be right." He had shouted it across the gym, waking a few, the others were too tired to care.

Months ago he would have sighed, walked over, even explained the situation calmly, politely.

"So," was his response, daring a answer.

In the damp shorts the change was more obvious. His time at the gym was evident on his body. Muscles layered upon light muscles, but no bulk. Lean muscles had formed after months of hard work. His flat stomach had definition, making him resemble a map of a man's true musculature, long before steroids became popular, before the bulky muscle's of manly men became popular.

"Next time it's sixteen hours and make sure your wife knows too."

Silent he turned and his eyes looked around the gym until they fell upon a familiar shape in a cot, towards the corner of the room, near a leak in the ceiling, no blanket. A head of dark hair rested on her arm, minus a pillow which was probably on the next cot, where someone slept with two pillows under his head.

Mrs. Hodge had been found.

Carefully navigating through the rows and rows of cots that held hundreds of sleeping rescue swimmers, tables of food and dry clean clothes, along with tables that held wet gear that dripped onto the floor.

When he reached the cot he dropped down beside her, pushing her forward, one arm fell over the side of the cot. Hodge reached over her and pulled said hand back onto the cot. He pushed one of his bare legs between hers and the other hooked over hers, in an attempt to warm her.

She never stirred.

The metal legs of the cot groaned beneath his weight.

His hand slid up her shirt and rested over her heart, the feel of it's beat soothed him. Feeling her completed him in a deep primal way.

Billy kissed the back of her neck, her smooth skin that had a scar from a rescue. He kissed the back of her ear and smelled her hair, which smelled like salt water and gasoline.

Drawing his teeth along one of the more sensitive parts of her body, the skin beneath her jaw.

"Billy? That better be you."

The tip of his tongue ran along her jaw and she rolled onto her back. Further entangling their legs. Her dark tired eyes fluttered and there was a cut on her cheek, a dark purple bruise on her chin, and he could only imagine what other beatings her body had taken in the rescues she had done through the stormy night.

His hand remained underneath her shirt and flattened on her smooth stomach.

No words were needed between them. Seeing her safe was all he needed. He buried his face between her neck and shoulder, closed his eyes. She merely closed her eyes and fell back into an exhausted sleep. Soon he followed in a exhausted sleep.

**Eight hours later...**

The cot moved.

The cot moved again.

The cot moved again and again and again.

Hodge slowly woke, slowly pulled out of his blissful, dreamless sleep. Warm and snug in a cot with the woman of his dreams, who was curled up with him, her hands pressed against his warm skin, her face tucked underneath his chin, their legs still entangled.

It could have been a earthquake. They had been moved from California and been through a couple, and not too concerned. The roof probably wouldn't crash down around them. Or so Hodge thought as he wondered what the movement was, Mrs. Hodge didn't even stir.

It moved again.

Hodge lifted his head and opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight that came in through the windows as it poured outside.

The roof continued to leak.

Ken Weatherly looked down at him with a curious expression. A anchor was tattooed on his brown skin, right beneath his collar bone.

"It's my turn next."

Hodge rubbed his face sleepily. "Touch my wife and die."

Ken dropped down on the empty cot beside Hodge, "Wife? When did that take place?"

Unmoving, Hodge glanced down at his sleeping wife as she slept. She could and would and had slept anywhere. "When we went to Vegas on our leave. Where are you at now?"

"Clearwater, heard you and the wife are up in Washington again."

Hodge nodded and glanced around, "I saw Fischer around here somewhere."

"Yeah, he just went out again," at that Weatherly laid down and got comfortable on the small cot.

At that she lifted her head. Looked around, hair stuck to the side of her face and a look of sleepy confusion made Hodge grin, "Are we ready to go out again."

As he closed his eyes Ken informed her, "In twenty minutes three more birds are going out."

Which made her relax.

She looked up into Hodge's blue eyes and ran her fingers through his unruly hair which had an added cow-lick from sleeping in the cot. "Bet I save more people then you."

A grin crossed over his face at the challenge. He leant down and brushed a kiss over her chapped lips. Remembering that it was indeed her competitiveness that first drew his eye to her, and then a bet that ended in a dinner, that ended in a weekend hidden away in his apartment and a few months later there was the trip to Vegas.

"What are we betting? Anything good?"

She pondered his question and placed a soft kiss on his bottom lip, which had a sizable cut in the middle of it. Someone's head had connected with his lip. Last time someone's head had connected with his chin and he had a scar to prove it. "I want a massage and a nice hot bubble bath, a million candles and your Magic Chicken."

"You usually get that weekly," he countered.

"All in one night, with flowers. I want flowers. Lots of flowers."

His fingers trailed down over her face. Pulling strands of hair from her face where they were plastered and pushing them behind her ear. "Well, Mrs. Hodge, I'm going to want lingerie if I win. Lacy black lingerie with stiletto heels."

"It doesn't matter cause you're not going to win," she replied. Her fingernail traced down over the muscle's and into the dip of his bellybutton. She then sat up and looked around the gym. Well past caring how she looked, which she was pretty sure was on the haggard side. After five straight days of work. Pulling people out of the hurricane affected islands with little sleep. Not that she'd rather be doing something else, she wouldn't. She was living the dream, her dream. With a look down at Hodge who eyed her like a model from the Maxim magazine, "We should probably carb up and head out. It's daylight now."

He checked his water proof watch. Good past 100 meters. Rubbed his face and swung his legs over the side of their cot.

A fresh wave of about twenty exhausted rescue swimmers came in. Which meant the helicopters were outside getting checked, repaired if needed, gassed up, and prepared to head out again with new pilots. Pilots were were changing shifts like the rescue swimmers, they had three empty class rooms and the teachers lounge to crash, eat, and clean up in.

When her bare feet hit the salt water she sighed. When she stood she limped slightly, stiff and sore. Hodge noticed, but since he was pretty sure he had a couple broken ribs. If all she had when the ordeal was over was a sprained ankle or pulled muscle, he'd be elated.

He placed his fingertips on the small of her back and directed her through the maze of cots, toward the food and gear.

Once at the tables they found their gear, suited up.

He helped her braid her hair and bun it. They then attacked the buffet of food and hot drinks like the Packers after the Superbowl. Eating enough to kill the hunger, but not enough to make them stuffed, not wanting to loose their brunch during a rescue.

When the man with the clipboard came back, seeing who was ready to go out again, who could do what, and where. He came to the Hodges, "Rescue Swimmers?"

She nodded, "Yeah, do you have spots on two choppers?"

He looked up at their name tags, "You're married?"

Billy nodded and then Mr. Clipboard nodded, "Yes. Names?"

"Billy Hodge and Magdalena Hodge."

Alena for short.

Hodge grabbed a biscuit as he took off his wedding band and slid it in his pocket, then zipped said pocket up. She mirror his movements. She wore no jewelry. It could caught, broken, and or cause bodily harm by getting snagged.

Mr. Clipboard gave them their assigned helicopters then went to the next swimmers.

They had stopped working together when they began to date. It had been an easy choice for them both. They couldn't save other people in dangerous conditions when they were worried about the other instead, which worked against the people they were originally supposed to save.

Alena kissed Hodge as she finished her hot chocolate, "See you soon honey."

He kissed her back. Once, twice, and on the third time he added, "Don't forget about the bet."


End file.
